


Everyone Needs A Fairy Godfather!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When Garrison and the guys run into trouble, his fairy godfather shows up to bail them out.  Lucky for everyone concerned, this godfather is wearing a General's insignia rather than wings.





	Everyone Needs A Fairy Godfather!

"They were on leave in London, Gil, not AWOL!" Somehow formality seemed inappropriate, him now firmly a member of the team in her mind.

"Yes, Miss, well, there seems to 'ave been a mixup; HQ rescinded the leave, possibly by accident, clerical error, though they aren't admitting that though coming up with no reason they WOULD 'ave done such a thing; but the men 'ad already 'eaded out and weren't at the lodgings Lieutenant Garrison 'ad set up for them, and the military police found them before the Lieutenant could. Now, they're in the stockade and those in charge are none too eager to release them again. Word I 'ave, there's talk again, about disbanding the team, sending them all back to prison again, using this as an excuse. Also, a reprimand, possibly more for the Lieutenant for not having them under proper supervision or some such nonsense."

"They're not letting the Lieutenant in to see them, so he didn't know for sure, but scuttlebutt is, the lads took some damage, though some say not much, some saying quite a bit, in that scuffle with the police AND afterwards, with the guards at the stockade maybe getting some of their own back for some past run ins. I've never 'eard the Lieutenant in quite such a taking; 'e 'as another meeting with those in charge first thing in the morning, but 'e's not too 'opeful. I'm afraid 'e just might end up in the stockade 'imself, but in the officer section, of course, so even then 'e won't be able to see the lads and take stock." Gil Rawlins was very uncomfortable with what he was doing; all his training told him he should certainly not be discussing any of this with ANYONE, much less a civilian female, but he rather thought she might be the only one who might possibly help. He'd seen her provide assistance before, in a wide variety of ways, some rather simple if unlikely and not to be appreciated by the military; some, well, not so simple at all, and he didn't even want to imagine how HQ would react if they had any idea.

Still, he was fond of the Yank Lieutenant and the lads, mischievious though he found them; and he respected the work they did, work not many would be able to do successfully. Seemed to him the Brass were rather cutting off their own noses in trying to disband them, and he couldn't see the constant, well perhaps mistreatment wasn't the best word, but it was the one that came most often to his mind when thinking about it, well he couldn't see that that did any good; indeed, was more likely to impede their success. He saw his duty as supporting the war effort for his country, staunchly and to the very best of his ability, and Gil Rawlins intended to do his duty to King and Country. Just, sometimes deciding just what supporting the war effort really entailed, well, sometimes that was a bit more complicated than just following orders, he'd come to find. Especially since those in charge couldn't seem to make up their mind about the direction of those orders. 

He brought his mind back to the young woman seated across the table from him. The look on her face was reassuring, if he considered his goal getting her motivated to provide assistance to the team; if he was thinking about the future peace and tranquility of HQ, well, perhaps that look wasn't so reassuring after all. He found himself not overly concerned about the peace and tranquility of HQ, somehow.

"Do you know where the meeting will be, precisely when, who will be involved?"

And he continued his narrative, considering at this point he'd already settled on which side he was cheering for, no sense in holding back. He sat, watching her face as she considered this situation, intrigued by the ripple and flash of ideas and emotions though he thought he was probably better off not being able to interpret those too clearly, sipping his cup of tea, even eating another of the excellent scones she'd put on the table when he appeared at her kitchen door.

Finally, she nodded, "thank you, Gil. Best you get back to the Mansion, be there if the Lieutenant or anyone else calls. Let me know if it's anything relating to this, either here, or . . " and she scribbled out a number on the London exchange "here. If I'm at neither place, there'll be someone at that second number; please give them the same information you'd give me; they'll get the message to me. You needn't leave your name; just call yourself 'Hermes'," with a grim smile.

Gil smiled in return, "messenger to the gods; yes, I like that. Does that make you Athena?"

And she have a little snort, "probably more like the Morrigan or perhaps Maat, but the idea's close enough," and watched as he hurried back to the Mansion and his duty, him thinking he might spend some time in the library figuring out just who 'the Morrigan' and 'Maat' were; somehow he thought that just might be quite interesting, getting a look at how the young woman viewed her role. He just hoped he didn't regret doing so; he slept poorly enough as it was.

He now understood quite a bit better how Private Jenkins had felt. He hadn't so much when he'd discussed that little incident with the Private after the fact, and the explanation, "just seemed that she might be better with moral delimma's than I was, seeing I'd never come up against one before. And seems she was, Sir," had bewildered him more than a little. The private had been sincere and earnest, the Sergeant Major had been sure of that; just Gil hadn't really understood, not til recently.

{"Yes, she just might be better with this moral delimma than most others too, certainly better than I would be. Lord knows she 'as a fondness for the lads, and for the Lieutenant as well, though that took some time to build, for 'er to come to trust 'im with really 'aving the lads' best interest at 'eart. Even if it 'adn't, she'd look out for THEM if she could. Just 'ope they've not been scuffed too badly; she's not going to react well to that, in addition to all else. And if it's 'er man what's taken any real damage . . ."} he shuddered at the thought.

He wasn't totally sure he approved of that rather odd relationship, but he had no doubts as to its existence or its sincerity. {"Real as they come, from what I can see, whether I approve or not; and I don't really know whether I do or don't, but don't know that my approval is needed anyway."} He would be surprised some time down the road to find those words coming back to him, and with him still of the same opinion, but under slightly different circumstances. 

Calls were made from the Cottage, information given, requests made. Calls were taken at the cottage, information received, instructions given. Meghada, the Dragon, headed for London, not quite breathing fire, but not so very far from it. To keep herself from melting the windshield, or shifting and taking out the whole car, she talked to herself, most of it not in English, much of it most discomforting should any have been able to hear and understand, for she was NOT in a good frame of mind. And her stomach was starting to hurt something fierce.

"Dyspepsia, that's what happens when you've eaten too much of something really bad. Well, I've obviously reached my limit of swallowing down all the stupidity, and the malice, and oh! the asinine behavior of those bloody idiots at HQ. It was bad enough when they were just getting on my nerves, trying to tell me how to run my missions, trying to get me to conform my behavior to THEIR ideals. This messing with the guys, in seemingly every way that comes to their pointy little heads, THIS is beyond what I can stomach! AND beyond what I INTEND to swallow!"

She continued her fuming, and reached London as fast as was possible without breaking any of the speed limits; that would do no good, since there was little of profit she could accomplish by getting there twenty minutes sooner anyway. A quick stop by the appointed safe house to get access to a phone resulted in a brief conversation with Dr. James Garvey, and a much longer one with the older man who she considered the equivalent of her 'godfather', and a re-routed call confirming what she'd feared, 'no, there are no visitors allowed, absolutely none. No, we cannot give out any information. No, absolutely not, miss." She snarled, but took a quick shower, and stretched out for a quick nap til she needed to be back in action. 

"Lieutenant Garrison, yes, we've heard your protests, we've heard your explanations. However, the facts remain clear; your men did not have valid passes, they were not where they should have been, you were not able to reach and retrieve them immediately as you should have been. They resisted arrest. With their records, the stockade is where they were sent; the stockade is where they belong, and is where they will remain until a decision is reached about their disposition. If they are needed for a mission before that decision is made, you can collect them from the stockade and you will return them there after the mission is completed."

Colonel Reames sat there, mouth turned down in a scowl matching the one shown by his bushy eyebrows. Garrison looked at him in frustration, glancing at the other man in the room, Major Livingstone. Livingstone didn't look any more amenable to reason that the Colonel did. Garrison drew in a breath to continue the arguing, knowing in his heart it wouldn't do any good, feeling sick at being helpless to protect the men under his command from the purblind actions of these officers! And he promised himself, if he got his men out of the stockade to run a mission, he'd NOT be returning them there; Actor had enough resources on the Continent, knew enough people, Garrison had a little money tucked aside; not much, true, but enough to help to keep them safe and together, maybe in Switzerland. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Meghada wouldn't be willing and able to help with that too; probably had some good ideas all on her own!

He brought his attention back to the long table in front of him, drew in a deep breath, "Sir! I . . ." and at that moment the door behind them opened.

Colonel Reames stood abruptly, "I said there were to be no . . ." and stopped, swallowed heavily at the sight of the big man standing in the doorway. Everyone in the room snapped to attention. Well, it probably wasn't the man, so much as it was the uniform. Army uniform. Army General's uniform, to be precise. 

"Terribly sorry to interrupt, gentlemen," came with a smile, that smile saying he wasn't really all that sorry, just being polite. "I heard you had Lieutenant Garrison here, and . . . Ah, there you are, Lieutenant."

Garrison snapped off a salute, "Sir!"

The General saluted in return, formally answering, "Lieutenant!" and then grinned warmly and strode forward, reaching out his hands to clasp Garrison's shoulders affectionately.

"Now that we have the formalities out of the way! Craig, my boy, it's so good to see you! Knew you were in the area, but haven't had the opportunity to track you down! Am I interrupting something vital here, or do you have time to have a bite of lunch with an old man?"

Garrison looked at him for a second, his eyes caught by a tiny hand signal, one he'd taught his team right from the beginning, 'play along; you don't have to understand why, just play along!' {"I hope to hell I'm reading this right!"} and he explained, "I'm afraid it's quite vital, sir. These gentlemen have my team and won't release them to me. I'm afraid I'm not at liberty til I get that resolved!"

The General frowned at Colonel Reames and Major Livingstone, who both gave a bit of a gulp. This was a most unanticipated turn of events, and most unwelcome. With a nod from Colonel Reames, Major Livingstone proceeded to explain the situation, the charges, to the increasingly incredulous General, Garrison adding a few extra pieces when he felt it was necessary.

"If I am understanding you correctly, Major, these men WERE given legitimate two day passes, and left their base of operations to use those passes, with their commanding officer's full permission. That you, or someone anyway, decided to revoke those passes, and it would appear for not any particular reason, well, it would appear they were not AWOL, merely the victims of a clerical mishap. Resisting arrest, yes, I can see that to be an issue, but hardly an unexpected happening; as Lieutenant Garrison just explained, the team has been the target of one or two 'arrests' in the past that were not legitimate, certainly giving them cause for apprehension and concern, reluctance to just accept it as given."

Major Livingstone proceeded to explain even Lieutenant Garrison didn't know where they were to be found, to which the General gave an amused hrummmph.

"If they are like any of the men I've commanded, and on leave, I would expect not. And frankly, most of the time, I rather preferred it that way; it let me sleep better! These men are Special Forces, gentlemen, not typists and bookkeepers, to be given a forty-eight hour leave, plunked down in a cubbyhole and expected to stay put except for going out for bible readings and afternoon tea!" and gave another hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement at the very idea. "Why, I could tell you stories . . .!"

Colonel Reames and Major Livingstone gave each other a rather frantic look.

"Now, let's get things going, shall we? I'm headed into a meeting with the bigwigs later this afternoon, and I really wanted to spend some time with my favorite godson here," giving Craig another firm pat on the shoulder, which left the two officers at the desk both wondering who a General, especially one with that many stars, would consider 'bigwigs', and feeling a bit queasy at the relationship the General was claiming with that rebellious and annoying Lieutenant they'd just spent the past hour or two threatening, disparaging and raking over the coals. They had a feeling the General would be hearing every little bit of that over their lunch. 

"Well, gentlemen? Let's get the team released to the Lieutenant, right away if you please, and let us be on our way!"

Reames sighed; he had no real choices here, and his only act of defiance was refusing to meet Garrison's gaze, not wanting to see the triumph there. In actuality, he wouldn't have seen triumph, just a rather blank professional look, trying to mask the young officer's growing confusion.

"Yes, sir. I'll call the order down right away. They'll be released to him upon his arrival."

"And no further nonsense about this matter, hummm?"

"Understood, General . . ., General . . ." realizing they had never gotten a name, and not wanting to step closer to read the name tag.

"Abernathy, General Jeffrey Abernathy, US Army. We may not have met before, gentlemen; something tells me we may be meeting in the future, though perhaps not," and the smile that accompanied that statement, well, it was extremely cold and purposeful.

"Come along, Craig, let's go retrieve those men of yours, and get something to eat. I'm most anxious to hear about . . ." and the General's voice trailed off as the two made their way down the long hallway.

Colonel Reames nodded grimly to the Major, "go ahead, make the call," and Major Livingstone hurried to do just that. Neither of them were happy about this, and the thing they were most unhappy about? Apparently they had a General who would be remembering them in a not too friendly manner, all over one upstart Lieutenant and a bunch of garbage can hoods! Neither of them would forget that smile, that implied promise, not for a long, long time.

The ride to the stockade wasn't particularly illuminating, since the General insisted on making small talk, after a brief but telling nod at the driver. Garrison understood, and kept up his part of the conversation, wildly adlibbing as he went. {"It would be nice to know just what the hell is going on, but if it gets the guys out of that damned stockade and back home, I'll wait for an explanation."} They got to the stockade and Garrison went in, the General accompanying him for weight.

The Sergeant of the guard was quick and responsive, though the look of apprehension on his face did nothing to ease the worry Garrison was feeling. When the door to the cell swung open, he knew he'd been right to worry. Even faster than that door had swung open, he swung around to blast the Sergeant.

"What is the meaning of this??!" 

The General took a good look and knew just what Garrison was talking about. {"Lord, a sorrier bunch I've not seen in a long time, not when this all supposedly happened here, not across the waters! Battered, bloodied, I think that Indian boy has some damage to his ribs or his stomach from the way he's hunched over. And the way they've positioned themselves! You can tell who's hurt the worst by the ones in front, ready to fend off any further attack. I wonder which one our girl has set on as hers; gossip has it one of them, not Garrison though. Well, that would be most unlikely, of course, though he seems quite different than most we've seen."}

He thought about the call he'd received asking for his help, her explanations, her being very calm and precise in her requests. He repeated everything back, after she'd given him his role, confirming, "and this is what you want to happen?" to be faintly alarmed and at the same time greatly amused at the suddent change, the fierce snarl that reached through that phone line.

"NO! This is NOT what I bloody well want to happen! What I WANT to happen is for me to tear that bloody stockade to the bloody ground and take one of those bricks and bash that stupid clerk who started this whole mess upside the head once or twice! What I WANT to happen is for me to take that cell door and use it to bash the daylights out of any who've brought harm to them! What I WANT to happen is to take a few more of those bricks and shove them up the tight arses of one Colonel Reames and one Major Livingstone! What I WANT to happen is for those idiots to start treating Garrison and his men fairly! What I WANT to happen is for the military to release the hold they have on my laddie and his team mates, with no more threats. That's what I bloody well WANT to happen! However, for right now, I'll settle for getting them out and cared for and back home!"

He half expected the phone to melt in his hand; he'd refrained from laughing til he hung up the phone, then it just had to break out. "I should have guessed 'calm' could only last so long. HER laddie, is it? I wonder which one? Well, no matter, she knows her own mind, always has." Now, looking at the men in front of him, he cringed to think what she would say, would do, when she saw them in this condition.

"Lieutenant, let's get your men out of here. I had intended to pick up a prescription from my doctor anyway; what say we drop your men off with him, get them taken care of while we go off and catch up. You can then take them back with you to your base while I head off to that ever-so-important meeting, eh?"

Garrison turned from harranging the Sergeant, who was now backed up against the wall, and drew in a deep breath. His mouth was pulled tight, his eyes fierce, "yes, sir, that sounds like a very good idea." He turned back to the cell, moved to the doorway and in.

The General was taken by the very real concern he could see in those green eyes, the touch given to each man, the welcome response in each of their eyes.

"Come on, guys, let's get you to a doctor, let him check you out. Then we head home, okay?" and there was a slightly husky rasp in the Lieutenant's voice.

The men made their way out of the cell, out of the stockade, the Indian being helped by a tall dark-haired man, the small blond giving a shoulder to the husky brunette, who seemed to be listing a bit too, along with having acquired a slight limp. The General noted that the two providing the help had certainly not come through this unscathed either, {"they seem a well set up crew, except for that smaller one, though I think he's just the wiry type; wonder how many it took to do that much damage?"} and again felt more than a little unease at the reaction of the young woman he knew so well. 

The drive to the small private hospital didn't take long, but Garrison was quick to give each of the guys the sign that the driver was not to be trusted, to watch what they said. Well, in all truthfulness, they were too tired, hurting too much to do much talking anyway. Other than a heartfelt murmured, "thanks, Warden," from the small blond, who the General could now tell was English, really nothing was said. However, when they pulled up to the hospital entrance, the looks that were exchanged told the General this place was known to them, and he thought he heard a sigh of relief from more than one.

The attendant at the door came to meet them, and ushered them into a private room without hesitation. "You'll be seen to immediately, just have a seat," came the very polite voice, and really, not more than a couple of minutes had passed before the side door opened and two men entered, both in the white coats proclaiming their vaulted status as staff doctors. They both nodded to Garrison and the General in recognition and welcome, then turned their attention to the other men.

"Well now, you've really gotten yourselves messed up this time, looks like, at least on the surface. Who's hurt worse, where do we start?" and at their joined voices, James took Chief in hand, guiding him through the door into an adjoining room. The men exchanged a relieved look. They knew James, just as they knew the other man, Patrick, and had no qualms about the care their team mate would be given.

"And next?"

Goniff motioned to Casino, "they did a right number on 'im; I'd say ribs, for sure, messed up 'is knee too, I think, along with bits elsewhere."

"And you, and Actor?"

The tall Italian spoke up, "on my part, bruises mostly, I think they loosened a couple of my teeth, and my right wrist has some damage. Goniff stepped between them and Chief, tried to stop them from doing worse, and they didn't like that and were quite adamant about demonstrating that; I imagine he has damage he's not telling us about, not til Chief and Casino are taken care of," to which Garrison gave a reproving shake of his head, but knew he shouldn't have expected anything different. For all his complaining in the general scheme of things, the Englishman was the mother hen of the group, and it would be most like him to put off saying anything til the others were tended to, though he'd complain loudly enough once that was done.

"Casino, let's get you looked at first. Goniff, we'd best see you after that, and don't think to hide any of the damage. Baby sister picks up on anything we didn't see and take care of, and you know she WILL, well, I like my scalp right where it is, thank you kindly!"

Goniff gave a reluctant smile, "well, wouldn't like to see anything 'appen to that nice 'ead of 'air, now would we? Likely she'd give me a right scold if I 'id anything from you anyway. Don't think there's anything too bad, but there just might be a few places you might want to 'ave a look-see," he admitted.

Casino looked over and snorted, "yeah, she'd give you a 'right scold', right after she tucked you up into bed with hot tea and soup and fresh scones, and cuddled right alongside to keep you warm! Probably find a few other ways to keep you warm too!" which got a laugh from everyone, including the now slightly pink Englishman, as Patrick led Casino through a different door.

The General was watching everything closely, {"so THAT'S the one she's claimed. Not what I'd have expected, perhaps. Still, at his size, putting himself between a wounded team mate and a bunch of bully boys set to do more harm? That says a lot. Along with putting himself last in getting care."}

Garrison saw the slight appraising frown, and had to smile.

"He just gets more surprising the longer you know him, too!" he told the General in a very low voice.

"Doesn't he though??!" came from behind them, and General Abernathy unconsciously tensed his shoulders in anticipation.

Instead of an outburst, though, there was only a warm touch on the shoulder to Garrison, a quick grateful nod to the General, and a concerned, but faintly smiling inquiry, "and James and Patrick are taking proper care of you?"

"Oi, 'Gaida," came from the slender Englishman, and the eager smile on his face and the look in his eyes reassured Abernathy, relieved him of some of his doubts anyway.

"Yes, Meghada, your brother and James are doing quite well for us. Do we have you to thank for this intervention? Or did the gods just decide to smile upon us and deliver us from our durance vile out of the beneficience of their hearts?"

"Actor, 'er name is Meghada, not Venus, you know!" and once again managed to stun the tall Italian, with Garrison not far behind. {"Just how often does he have to pull a stunt like that before I really understand and accept who and what he is??! Or at least, that he's something quite different than he lets on!"}

Abernathy looked from Actor to Garrison and back again, {"obviously some inside bit; I don't understand those looks at all."}

Garrison saw, and grinned over at the General. In a voice little more than a murmur, "Goniff is, by his own admission and his personnel file, without much of an education or a particularly high level of intelligence, along with being an abject coward. Just, somehow, he keeps slipping, you know?" with an amused look at his pickpocket.

"Yes, I see, so recognizing and responding most appropriately to a rather obscure literary reference, stepping in between his teammates and danger at certain risk to himself, that, I presume, he just puts up as, what, just a lucky guess, just an accident?"

"Exactly," Garrison responded with a low laugh. "Like the time he 'tripped and fell' into two German soldiers who were about to shoot the rest of us; took three bullets with that little bit of 'clumsiness', kept the whole lot of us from ending up dead. Just laughed at me after we got back, once he got well enough to have a conversation with. Said he was no hero, just clumsy on his feet."

General Abernathy just shook his head, looking back at the man now being clucked over by one of his favorite people.

Garrison left Meghada in charge of the guys at the hospital and went with the General for that promised lunch. He hadn't wanted to, but Abernathy had pointed out, "that supposedly was the reason I came looking for you; it would be best if we do just that, just in case," and Garrison reluctantly agreed. It was a quiet lunch, just more of the role playing, Garrison filling in his 'god-father' on his recent doings, some family news, all of which was pretty much fabricated but not really easily verifiable by any listeners either.

They had left, taking Garrison back to his jeep. The General walked with Garrison and stood at the driver's side door while the Lieutenant got himself settled.

"Thank you, General. Whatever your reasons, thank you."

"Well, you must have guessed my reasons, female, red hair, bit of a temper?"

Garrison laughed, "yes, I guessed that much. Tell you the truth, I'm surprised we didn't see more of that temper over all this," and was more than surprised at the absolute roar of laughter that came from the big man.

"Listen, Lieutenant, and I will tell you about how well she kept control over that temper!" And he related that conversation with Meghada, and what she really WANTED to have happen, and Garrison shook his head, sharing in the laughter.

"Yeah, that sounds more like her!" His expression became more serious, "we're lucky, you know. She cares about us, all of us, not just Goniff. My guys, they don't have all that many people who care about them, people willing to put themselves on the line for them."

Abernathy put an understanding hand on the young man's shoulder, "she wouldn't care if they weren't worthy of being cared about, you know, and by HER standards, which are a bit different than many others. And she cares about you too; that is obvious, and again, I think with cause."

He hesitated, then said, "the Englishman, Goniff you said his name is. I'd not like to see her hurt."

Garrison grimaced, "I don't want to see either of them hurt, but if it happens, it won't be of their own doing. I can assure you of that." And General Abernathy nodded, accepting that as truth.

"Well, I wish them well; it's not easy being a Dragon; I don't imagine it's easy loving or being loved by a Dragon. Still, if they can make it work, if fate allows them that, I could easily envy them, you know," and the two men nodded in complete agreement. Though Garrison did find it puzzling that the General talked of her as 'a Dragon'; just because her code name was Dragon, well, that didn't seem to account for the way the man had phrased that. Odd.

Actor took the opportunity a few nights later, in the Common Room, to bring up the one thing he was still curious about. They were all there, all mending, all settled in with a glass of whiskey.

"Craig, you never mentioned your Godfather was a General, and I don't recall your mentioning that name before, Abernathy. Was there some falling out, or just that the subject never came up? It was certainly fortunate he was in London and looking for you in time to be of such assistance, though I imagine we have Meghada to thank for that excellent timing."

Garrison let out a bark of laughter, and shook his head, "Actor, I don't have any Godfathers, and to be honest, I've never seen the man before in my life. I don't even know if he is a real General, and I'm not going to ask around to find out. But either way, he runs one hell of a con, doesn't he?"

And Goniff grinned, "Friends and Family, mates, come in 'andy, they do; be right interesting to get a good look at that List someday, now wouldn't it, see who else is on it, sides 'fairy godfathers', I mean."

And Garrison have a heartfelt, "interesting, Goniff, but maybe more than a little scary, I think!" and the others, after thinking about it for a minute, had to nod in agreement. Yes, it just could be.

 

.


End file.
